Intervention
by Ms. ST
Summary: The neighbors of the Mad Hatter and the March Hare worry about the couples' fate if they keep up their ridiculous obsession with their beloved tea. Well, it really is only Cheshire who cares. The others were only dragged into the mess. One-shot. Rated T.


"I have gathered you all here today-"

"Is this some kind of wedding, Cheshire?" interrupted the Caterpillar after having taken a long drag of her Virginia slim. "Because as I recall, you mentioned a small meeting of close friends convincing Hatter and March that their addiction to tea was ruining their lives.

But as we all see before us," she continued the embarrassment while gesturing towards two pink, fluffy chairs besides the Cheshire Cat, "the reasons of our get-together are not here." The corners of her thin lips twitched, but she concealed her amusement by covering her mouth with a boney, premature-aged hand and fell silent. The murmuring of agreement ceased as well, all eyes on the Cat as his poised strides grew oddly fainter as the Cat came closer to the group.

Stunned and paralyzed by the sight of elegance itself, the people of Wonderland had longed for Cheshire's charm and appeal. His alluring persona captivated even the Red Queen herself, having fallen faint after he kissed her plump hand. His movements were paced and majestic, giving the illusion of a stingray with the way he floats off of the ground as he strolls through crowds. As his legs moved and his hips swayed, his upper-half relaxed into his walk, moving ever-so-slightly whenever he changed direction. But perhaps the most admired feature of Cheshire was his grin. His cheeks puffed as his lips parted, revealing two lines of perfectly straight teeth. His sharp eyes narrowed into slits, crow's feet visible at the corners. People believed it would stop a Jabberwocky in its tracks, mesmerize it like a swinging watch with its flawless beauty, and have the creature turn away and gallop back to where it once came from. (Of course, this was not true. The Cheshire Cat had never tried such a thing.)

Cheshire moved behind the Caterpillar, bent down so that his lips were level with her ear, and cupped his hand over her cheek. He then traced an invisible line across her jaw with the tip of his finger, stopping at her ear lobe and tugging lightly. After placing his hand around her ear, he simply blew softly (so soft, the Caterpillar thought it was a baby breathing on her ear) and walked back beside the two downy chairs. Cheshire waited for the Caterpillar's mind to reach Wonderland again – her eyes had glazed over with pleasure; her fingers had grasped the arm of the chair firmly; her lips had slightly parted; her breathing had been irregular. The Cheshire wanted to smile, but he knew the power of his impish grin. So he decided to smirk instead.

"You're not goin' ter do that ter us, are ya?" asked Tweedledum, looking very petrified.

"Not unless you want me to," replied Cheshire, smiling as the twins shook their heads in unison.

"As I was saying," Cheshire started again, but again he stopped because next to him the White Rabbit was whimpering.

"Fredrick," Cheshire said very sincerely, but the White Rabbit heard the slight strain in the cat's tone. "Is there something you want to say regarding this meeting?" The Cheshire Cat tilted his head to the side, frowning. His body was relaxed, but the White Rabbit was very good at picking up energy and noticed that Cheshire's calm exterior did not match the frustrated emotion he held inside.

"I-I-It's just I-I-I have an appointment w-w-w-with Dodo th-th-this afternoon. At f-f-f-four," said White Rabbit as he twiddled his thumbs nervously.

"And what is it that Dodo has that's so important?" Cheshire asked, leaning his body against one of the pink chairs and hugging his torso. "So important that you would miss out helping two friends in need? And why now? It's only noon."

"N-No! It's n-n-nothing like that!" White Rabbit yelped, flailing his hands in front of his face. "Please Cheshire, I-I-I-I need to hurry and-and clean my house before Dodo arrives. It is so filthy."

"Fredrick, dear, I went to your house yesterday," said Caterpillar, quite recovered from Cheshire 's air kiss. "I did not see a speck of dust nor anything out of place."

"That was b-b-because I spent all m-m-morning cleaning!"

"Oh, hosh tosh." Caterpillar waved her hand in a dismissive manner.

"What, was yer slippers out of line?" the twins cackled as they bounced on their chairs.

"Or perhaps a picture frame was crooked!" cried Tweedledee, at which his brother gave him a slap of approval.

"Big bullies, that's what they are," the White Rabbit murmured. He wrinkled his tiny pink nose and began sucking on one of his long, white ears.

"Fredrick, please stay," said Cheshire. He had sat down in a pink, fluffy chair once the twins began to make a ruckus. "The more supporters, the more likely Hatty and Marchy will stop their abuse of tea."

"And the more likely Hatter and March will stop their abuse of tea, the more likely they will stop their silly nonsense," Caterpillar joined in after puffing small smoky vowels from her mouth.

"No, Caterpillar," Cheshire disagreed, "the more likely they will be healthy and stop asking us for money or worse – stealing it. Their 'silly nonsense' has nothing to do with tea."

"Of course it's to do with tea!" Caterpillar cried out, but she stopped herself from finishing the sentence when another voice joined in. Every head turned to the cupboard under the stairs (for that was where the voice had come from). They heard scrambling and pots falling and even a horn being stepped on. Whoever or whatever was in the closet soon settled down after what sounded like tea cups, trays, kettles, brooms, and an accordion were placed back from way they fell.

"I told you to keep your mouth closed!" said a very irritated and disappointed voice.

"I'm sorry!" said another voice, this one being much higher and frightened. "I couldn't let them talk about our tea and us behind our back like they've been doing!"

"Marchy, my darling, they can not talk behind our back if we are facing them."

"Oh. Quite right. You are so very clever, Hatter," Marchy giggled.

"Yes, yes, I know, my dear, but your outburst has blown our cover! We have been found out! You would make a very terrible…"

The Caterpillar opened the door to find the Mad Hatter sitting Indian style with the March Hare cradled in his lap. (The cupboard had hardly enough room for the two of them.) They both looked up simultaneously, both smiling innocently and laughing nervously.

"Well, hello there, Caterpillar," Hatter greeted. "Marchy and I were just playing a game of hide."

The Caterpillar waited, thinking Hatter was going to continue, but all he did was smile broadly and blink. "Don't you mean hide and seek?" she asked.

"I mean what I say."

"Come on! Get up!" the Caterpillar said angrily, snatching the March Hare's arm and pulling her off of Hatter's lap. "We've been waiting here for a good twenty minutes, and I've got things to manage."

"Like your hookah collection?" Hatter joked before he stood up and walked next to Marchy.

"Now's not the time to be funny!" shouted the Caterpillar as she wagged a finger at the Mad Hatter.

"Okay." Hatter began to whistle and rock on the heels of his shoes.

"Good," said the Caterpillar. "We can–"

"Is now a good time to be funny?" Hatter interrupted, grinning and giggling with the March Hare.

The Caterpillar's hands flew in the air and settled on her boney hips, muttering obscure language under her breath. While walking back to her seat, she drew a pack of cigarettes from her caterpillar-skinned coat, and flicked the old cigarette on the ground, not giving a damn if it was her house or not. After her fury simmered down and her Virginia slim was lit once again, she brushed a piece of blue hair away from her eyes and blew out a cloudy 'A' with her mouth.

"Hatter, March," the Cheshire calmly called out as he gestured to the two chairs in front of the group.

The couple anxiously looked at each other, both reluctant to sit down. But the Mad Hatter swallowed any animosity he had towards the ordeal and proudly sat in the chair closest to Cheshire. The March Hare, however, was more hesitant, for she knew these acquaintances, or rather neighbors she never talked to, were planning on taking away the one thing that connected her and the Mad Hatter. Sure, she was just as mad as Hatter, but it was because of tea that united them. She did not want to lose that memory or the delightful substance that threaded the memory together. She balled up her fist, took a deep breath, and sat down next to Hatter, glancing over at him every so often. He might not cherish the memory of their first meeting, but March relived it in her mind every night before she falls asleep.

"Cheshire, dear, why are you doing this?" Hatter asked as he crossed his legs and spread his fingers across his knee.

"For your own good," replied Cheshire.

"What good?" Hatter asked, quite confused at Cheshire's response.

"Your own," the cat sighed.

"But I do not have any good in me." Hatter tilted his head and gestured for Cheshire to lean his ear to his lips. "Have you _seen_ my basement?" he whispered, at which Cheshire rolled his eyes but grinned nonetheless.

"Fine," Cheshire caved. "Then it's for _our_ own good."

"You do not have any good in you either," Hatter commented.

"I beg your pardon!" the Caterpillar exclaimed, shocked by Hatter's rude remark.

"It is not nice to beg," said Hatter. "Dogs beg."

"H-How dare you say we haven't any good in us!" The Caterpillar's antennas stood straight up as she continuously puffed smoke from her cigarette and blew it out of her mouth.

"Face it, Ms Pillar," Hatter said calmly, shrugging his shoulders. "You have a bad temper; Fredrick buys poppy flowers from Dodo; the twins are tyrants with all bark but no bite. And Cheshire, you are too controlling of other people when you cannot control yourself. I know how you got Caterpillar here. She is not a very close friend of ours, but here she is, sitting in one of our chairs, temper askew, and giving the house a rather nasty smell.

"Tell me, Cheshire," he continued in a royal manner, his chin inching higher and his back straitening. "How was the old goat?"

"How dare you!" The Caterpillar pounded her fist on the arms of her chair, knocking the ashes of her cigarette on the floor. "How dare you! Indulge yourself in tea! Both of you go so mad, and shred each other to pieces! I don't care! I never cared!" As she stood up, Mad Hatter swore he felt the floor shake beneath his feet. For such a small, frail creature, she could surely pack the punch and wail her voice to such heights the Red Queen would be green with envy.

As Cheshire tried to console her, she waved her Virginia slim in front of his face like a wand, threatening to burn the grin off his lips. She swat at his hands that tried to comfort her and stomped her foot on the ground. She wagged her finger like an old mother would do to her son, but Hatter knew their relationship was far beyond the love between mother and son. But did Cheshire really love the old broad, Hatter couldn't help but wonder. Surely the Cat did not think her wrinkles were attractive. And by God! if Cheshire found Caterpillar's temper to be desirable – he would believe that when he saw a tamed Jabberwocky!

After the soft squabbling receded, Caterpillar and Cheshire returned to that spots in the drawing room. The Cat suppressed a great sigh, and the Caterpillar constantly puffed out her vowels with an arm wrapped around her middle. The Mad Hatter looked portentously over the small pack of Wonderlanders who were all here against their will. Tweedledum nodded off on the shoulder of his brother, while Tweedledee wearily fingered a tray of turtle dumplings. Fredrick anxiously chewed on his white ear, drawing blood and fretfully trying to suck the wound dry. Marchy kept to herself. She looked absolutely adorable when she cried. He then turned to Cheshire once more, but whirled his head to his bunny a second time.

"Marchy, darling," said Hatter, alarmed, "whatever is the matter?"

She picked her head up, surprised and unaware of her sudden weeping. She only thought blurry vision was a symptom of tea withdrawal, but in fact it was her tears swelling in her eyes. She hastily wiped the tears from her face and smiled, showing the disturbed crowd that nothing was the matter and that they could move on with their intervention. However, the March Hare desperately wanted to stop, and this the Mad Hatter knew because he knew his beloved bunny very well.

"You want to stop, right March?" asked the Mad Hatter, which in returned he got a timid nod. Hatter gingerly placed his hand on her shoulder and stroked her neck with his thumb.

"Please don't take away my tea," she sobbed. "Please. Tea is beyond just a beverage to me. It was what brought Hatter and me together. It is the memory of our meeting that I love, the sweet scent triggering the string of images of his first smile, his first dramatic gestures, his first words he spoke to me, his first step towards me with that one item that binds us together. It is not the taste itself but what the taste does – it reminds me of when he hugs me, his massive arms circling my body and engulfing me with warmth and mirth. It is not the sight of the liquid, but what the liquid reminds me of – the way Hatter's movements flow, his arms and body falling into motions so swift and regal. The sound of it pouring is of his laughter.

"So you see?" She turned to the group, smiling through her puffy eyes and runny nose. "Tea doesn't make me mad. It makes me love Hatter for everything he is and everything he isn't.

"Please don't take my tea away," she cried, folding into herself and wrapping her arms so tightly around her stomach, Hatter was afraid she might split in two. "Please, please don't take it away."

The Mad Hatter looked upon the faces of his neighbors; he himself was surprised with this confession. He never realized how true and deep March's love was for him, a love so strong he could feel the warm flames erupt from her heart and the very chains that unite their hearts together. This declaration softened the Hatter's features, and he picked Marchy up and embraced her, squeezing every negative emotion out of her bones, her mind, her heart, and let them ooze down to the floor in a puddle of black slime.

The March Hare knew better than to stain Hatter's garments with tears (or any other substance) so she tried to pry her head away from his gold vest, but his palm took her head, pushed it against his chest again, and smoothed down her russet locks. He cooed words of love into her ear, only words Marchy could hear, and to this the party left and the intervention was forgotten, for none had the heart or the strength to tear this love apart.


End file.
